


A Cloak To Hide Your Shame

by Danruu



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Solo!Cullen, Unrequited infatuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danruu/pseuds/Danruu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the unfortunate game of Wicked Grace, the Inquisitor lends Cullen his cloak for his walk of shame. It smells like him. One shot/drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cloak To Hide Your Shame

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kmeme prompt: Cullen running naked from that Wicked Grace game is good, but consider this; Quizzie takes pity and gives poor man his coat/over-robe, so he doesn't freeze off any important bits.  
> Basically I just wants Cullen desperately getting off with his nose pressed into collar of Inquisitor's coat yes thank you.
> 
> Unsure about the rating, went for mature since it wasn't all that explicit right?

The evening had not gone the way Cullen had expected, being dragged into one of Varric’s games of Wicked Grace had been a pleasant surprise, even as he’d tried to get out of it with the pretense of work to be done when the Inquisitor had arrived. Truth be told Cullen had been on edge, not used to being able to relax around who he considered his superiors, and not wanting to embarrass himself in front of the man he respected so much.

 

“Well a fine job you did there Cullen.” He muttered to himself as he walked briskly back to his room, bare feet padding along the stone slabs of the battlements. He pulled the borrowed cloak closer around himself, praying that no one would see him. No one else anyway.

 

He hadn’t drunk alcohol like that in so long, but his nerves about being around the Inquisitor had caused him to have more than a few of the tavern’s infamous ales, enough to help him join in with the rest of the group, and brave enough to challenge Josephine to an all-or-nothing game of cards. Luck had not been on his side.

 

Safely back in his office, Cullen slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, willing the blush on his cheeks to die down. Blackwall often told tales about walking back to the barracks in the nude after a bad night of cards and apparently it wasn’t anything be ashamed of as far as the residents of Skyhold were concerned. But Maker. The Inquisitor had been there. He’d seen... well... a lot of him.

 

Cullen climbed the ladder to his bed, moving to take off the cloak he’d been wearing. It was the Inquisitor’s, leant to him in a moment of pity. “It’s cold out there, I can’t have my Commander getting frostbite can I?” He’d said good-naturedly, a smile on his face that wasn’t mocking, just mildly amused. Cullen had liked that smile.

 

The cloak was made of ring velvet, heavy and warm. It smelled of the Inquisitor, a strange mix of elfroot, woodsmoke, and something so masculine and unique that Cullen didn’t want to take it off. Instead he huddled into it more, pressing his nose against the dark green fabric and breathing deeply.

 

Leaning back against the pillows Cullen wondered how it would feel to have the Inquisitor here, not just his scent. He could imagine the man smiling in the dark, pushing the cloak aside to reveal Cullen’s naked form, straddling his hips as he leaned down to claim his mouth, his scent surrounding them both.

 

Maker, he shouldn’t be thinking about the man like that. He was the Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. And he was a friend. Just a friend. Cullen’s cheeks burned in the darkness, but a hand still moved down to his already twitching cock. He bit his lip to suppress a moan as he gave himself a slow, tentative stroke. The Herald wouldn’t be tentative. He never was. He would slide his hand down and grasp him firmly in one of those strong hands, and he would smile as Cullen bucked and moaned, cheeks red and hair messy already.

 

Cullen rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the cloak, hand still circled around his cock as he started to move his hips. The cold air against his bare flesh sent a pleasing shiver up his spine, even if he’d much rather have the warm weight of another pressing down on his back. He could imagine the Inquisitor would have him like this, spread out and wanting, spine curved in just the right way.

 

Maker forgive him, he wanted to know what that would feel like. If Cullen had not used all his bravery on the game of Wicked Grace, perhaps he would have tried for himself now. Another time perhaps. Right now he was content to press his face against the velvet and thrust his hips into his hand. The fantasy would be enough, of the Inquisitor touching him, fingers slick and warm in the most intimate of places.

 

Cullen moaned loudly, glad for a room so far away from anyone else in Skyhold. He certainly would die of shame if anyone saw him now, naked and rutting into the mattress still half-wrapped in the Inquisitor’s cloak.

 

He’d be gentle at first, but then he’d pick up the pace. The Inquisitor never did anything by halves, love-making would be no different. He’d grip Cullen’s hips, moan just as shamelessly. Cullen spread his legs further apart, as if doing so would make the man materialise between them.

 

Stroking himself desperately now, Cullen could barely hold onto the daydream as he was overcome with pure need, and he breathed deeply into the cloak, letting the fabric stifle his moans. He came suddenly, harder than he had for a long time, legs shaking from the exertion and his hand cramping. Rolling onto the other side of the bed to avoid the mess he’d made, Cullen caught his breath, staring up at what was left of the ceiling of his room. His cheeks were red, and they burned at the now hazy images of the Inquisitor.

 

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen mumbled into the darkness, rolling onto his side and pulling the cloak over him. He might be a little ashamed of what he’d just done, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want that scent around him as he fell asleep. As he started to drift, he wondered with a sleepy smile how long he could get away with not returning the Inquisitor’s cloak to him...


End file.
